


the last pale light.

by howlingautumn (orphan_account)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Female Bilbo, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Multi, Reincarnation, Thorin Feels, Thorin Has No Sense Of Direction, Thorin Is Durin, Thorin-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4710809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/howlingautumn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is almost the close. This is the last, last time, the last pale light shines from the moon above. But, before it is time for him to leave, he has a few things to say. </p><p>He has a few more things to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one last time.

**Author's Note:**

> By Durin's Beard! I should probably be editing "These Here Are My Desires" but instead I am bringing you this . . . thing. Let me know what you think, loves. Comment, criticize, cry, whatever feels right. Also, you may have to read a few backup fics of mine to fully understand this.

_Thorin Oakenshield is alive._

_Well, almost. He is in the waiting place, the place between death and the Hall of his fathers, it lasts only for a brief second, but to him it lasts forever._

_This was supposed to be his last life. Durin's line would continue on without him, without any interference from the Crowned One, himself._

_Alas, Bluebell Baggins lives and breathes, still. And he would wait for her forever._

_He has before._

Thorin III bears an uncanny resemblance to his dearly departed uncle, Thorin II Oakenshield, as does his twin to his uncle, Fili. This is not the first time Legolas has noticed this. And, it certainly won't be the last. Before the King had passed on, Legolas had developed a friendship of sorts with him, aiding in the rebuild of Erebor, and acting as an advisor on some issues. They didn't speak much, but nothing could erase that ease of understanding. 

Not even death, it seems. 

The young dwarf princes were making their first debut in Legolas's father Thranduil's throne room. It had been many years since Tauriel had stepped foot into Greenwood, and the clamor around her children was nothing to go unnoticed. Fili II was a soft blonde thing, perfectly content in his mother's, father's, grandfather's, grandmother's, or any passing citizen on the streets arms as he was in any others. Thorin was a touch more discerning, he hadn't let go of Legolas since they had stepped inside. For the toddler's were the grand source of attention, even if they hadn't made it to the throne room yet. 

Tauriel is so natural among old friends and family, accepting compliments on the prince's beauty graciously while still getting all the visits she had missed during the time spent away. Legolas, one prince in tow, touches his friend's shoulder lightly, "Tauriel, I would be happy to take the children to my father while you finish your conversations. It is no trouble to me." 

She looks conflicted, the elf that he had shared a few centuries with, but accepts with a kiss to his cheek, handing him Fili as well to which Thorin takes great offense. " _Uncle_. You promised we would nap after this Leggy. Why must there be so many people?" Legolas stifles a laugh, letting Fili tug on the braid that shows his allegiance with them, "These are your kin, Thorin. Greenwood's throne would be yours." 

Thorin leaves it at that, touching his brother's hand slightly, then letting them walk in silence, no more questions for now. Legolas enjoys the questions, enjoys the children's thoughts, it reminds him of days spent on his  _Ada's_ lap while the King of the Woodland Realm answered anything that his young mind could concoct. 

Hundreds of years have passed and Legolas still feels like a child when the guards swing open the doors to the throne room. 

Some things, it seems, do not change. 

_"Why would you come here, elf? Does not your father abhor my line?"_

_"No, although it seems as such. I do not either. I recognize you Durin, even if you do not yet see it for yourself."_

It has been many years since a child has been in his throne room. Many years indeed. Still, no matter how old Legolas grows, he will never cease to be just an elfling in Thranduil's eyes. His son has two children in his arms, ones with barely pointed ears, and he reconciles that this must be Tauriel and King Kili's children. And, how odd, he could have sworn that he has seen those faces before. Turning to Bard with a surety that comes from the practice of a lifetime, he says, "Welcome, Crown Princes, to Greenwood. We have waited for you."

And, the one with sapphire eyes, he lifts his head up from the Prince of Greenwood's shoulder, to smile, one cheek dimpling sweetly. 

Then Thranduil knows. Then, he knows. 

_"Tell me, good thief, how is it that I remember you, but you, do not remember me?"_

_She lifts her head, "Who said I don't remember you?"_

Legolas does not desire to be king. Neither does Bard, who has his own kingdom to tend to when he is not a guest with his children here. He could, in fact, rule Greenwood until time incumbent, but Thranduil will pass on the elven throne to one of the children sleeping in his arms. 

Durin, it seems, will get his wish. 

He will rule Erebor no longer. 

 

 


	2. a king on carven stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! I've gotten a few questions about this fic so I'm going to give you a quick disclaimer without, hopefully, revealing anything too big. SO, this fic is not related to any others, it exists in an alternate place, it does, however, bear some similarities to "Always in My Head". Thorin is Durin, has been and always will be. Kili is alive. Thorin III and Fili II are Thorin Oakenshield and Fili, Kili's brother (but, you can decide for yourselves.) But, in new bodies, and Thorin has had some experience with this . . . exactly why it comes so easy to him. Bluebell Baggins is alive! Only our dear Fili and Thorin have perished in the Battle of the Five Armies. And the rest, dear ones, you'll just have to wait and see.

_Frerin, his brother, is very blonde. He has a mane of hair much like a loud, golden lion._

_And, he is pestering Thorin to no end._

_"But, Thorin, you received Mahal's portrait, not Adad, or Dis, or me. Just you. Don't you find that quite odd? Thorin, Thorin, brother, are you listening?"_

_He was. He still is._

Thranduil still keeps the children cradled in his arms. They sleep deeply, perhaps the peace and vigor restored to Greenwood has an effect on all who enter. This, of course, is better than the sickness that nestled across all kingdoms, before. 

It does not sit well to dwell on that part of the past, though, so the King of the Woodland Realm pushes further, offers a hand to breach the small fracture between himself and his son. Legolas is standing solidly, making no move to be closer, but keeping his eyes trained on the small elflings . . . of dwarflings, though they do resemble their kind, the elves that is, quite a bit. Tilda had wanted to trace the line of Thorin's ear with her finger, but he had been too far up in Legolas's arms for her too. She had later asked Thranduil if Legolas's ears had looked like that when he was small and they had. So, so long ago. 

He clears his throat once more, breathes out, "One would think that they are your children, Legolas. Do many assume?" 

His son, the little Leaf, snaps his clear eyes to and away from Thorin and Fili, anywhere away from his father, from the question. "Those citizens of Erebor do not, they were quite apt actually, to two elves in their kingdom. Others do assume. Most others, actually. Kili . . . the King Under the Mountain, he does not mind if they assume. Although I try to correct them when they do, _Ada_."

"Ah," he says, not exactly content with the answer, though he will allow it to slip, "you care for them both, do you not?"

Legolas, had he not been a grown elf of many centuries, would have blushed up to the tips of his pointed ears. Though, Thranduil can only assume as such, for Legolas hesitates only a moment before answering, "Of course. I have known Tauriel since she became your ward. I am the King's closest advisor, since the Battle. Of course, of course, I care for them." 

Thranduil looks at the children in his arms, "My son, you know that is not the care I mean." 

_"Father is not cross," Fili answers from beside him. "And, he is certainly not cross with you."_

_Thorin wants to make Fili remember. Their grandmother, his sister for Mahal's sake, had not favorites when it came to the two of them, she loved them both so so deeply, that to call favorites would disregard that. And it must be hard, to see two dead people come back to life right there in front of your very eyes. It must be._

_It is._

Tauriel strides into the room with the stride of a warrior, not yet a queen, that will come with time, Legolas supposes. He is still trying to conceal the thoughts running rampant through his mind, many years of practice are the only thing keeping his composure from breaking.  It is just like his father to ask such intrusive questions and expect an answer not tainted from the need to hold back, to protect oneself, Thranduil had always called Legolas the prince with a pauper's grace and air. This is true, in a way, for he had always felt more sane in the wild than in the court. 

Always. 

They were all surprised about the summons to Greenwood though there was still not much hesitation, The Lonely Mountain was glorious, but nothing can replace the feel of home and here. Kili was in Erebor now, probably in his study, fire lit, missing Tauriel and Fili and Thorin and Le-

Thranduil smiles, not a smirk, but a genuine smile, and he starts. "I made a promise. I will declare Prince Thorin III as my heir. He will rule Greenwood as King when I go onto the Havens."

And that, that Legolas did not expect. 

_"Grandfather," calls Thorin. "Grandfather, what does this mean?"_

_It has been too long he sees Thror and Thranduil and everyone else and they say, "You know."_

_When he wakes, the mountains do too._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am working on my baby, "These Here Are My Desires" but it is wrapping up . . . and I am very sad. But, I love you all! Also, Legolas and Thranduil will not be the sole narrators. Also, also, italics can be flash backs and flash forwards.


	3. and I ask for no redemption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are enjoying this! Please comment if you like, I really value your input, you guys are the wind beneath my writing wings. Thanks, a million!

_The once grand halls of Erebor are now scorched and dark, filled with the dragon's sickness and greed, and this is where the Burglar should step in._

_Thorin's mind is so filled with awful stinging things that he loses the thought  that has been with him for centuries to save Bluebell Baggins, to keep her safe._

_He hopes, he hopes, that this time it is not too late._

Bluebell Baggins sits on one of the porches surrounding Bag End, sipping tea, and waiting for the Rangers. 

Once the Rangers arrive she will leave with them for Erebor, stopping by Rivendell for a small visit, and passing through Beorn's domain as well. The Rangers will depart once Rivendell is in sight and she will make her way to the Lonely Mountain by herself. So different from the time before. It feels so far away, that time, but in actuality it has only been one and a half years. That is all. Enough time for Tauriel to bear her first children, twins, Kili wrote in his letters. 

They do not know she is coming. 

Blue thinks she owes it to Thorin Oakenshield to go back. 

And, she thinks, she owes it to herself. 

_Dwalin is a steady presence at her right shoulder. She loves him for that, among other things. Once again, he pats her back._

_"He will listen to you, be brave Blue. Besides, you are the only one that Thorin owes a life debt, or two, too. You could turn the tides, Master Burglar."_

_What he doesn't say, though, is **You ha** **ve before, good thief.**  
_

_You have before._

Dwalin has been many things. A warrior, a friend, a brother, the Captain of the Royal Guard, but most recently, he has acquired a new title, the one of Grandfather. 

Grandfather to his best friend's great nephews, he has no doubt in his mind that if Thorin, Thorin Oakenshield, had been alive, that he would have gotten the honorable title. He was more father to those boys than anyone. And he loved them so. 

He loved them so much. 

Dis, Kili, young Thorin III and Fili II, those were the only pieces left of the King Under the Mountain. 

Of course, so is Bluebell Baggins. 

_Balin smokes his pipe, the sweet aroma filling the air around the camp's only fire. They are all so tired. Gandalf has mentioned a possible safe haven for a few nights, Thorin's wounds being far beyond even Oin's expertise._

_It takes them a few days, but finally, they reach Beorn's House._

_Then, Balin tells the story._

_Bluebell Baggins, Master Burglar of Thorin Oakenshield's Company, has asked a simple question, spurred on by the urging of Fili and Kili, her Twin Terrors, she called them. She had asked, so softly, if there was a Queen Under the Mountain._

_Balin had chuckled a bit at that, "No, lass. Although in his weakened mind, Thror had tried to set up a marriage between Thorin and one of Dain's kinfolk, although we all protested."_

_"But, Thorin had . . . loved her?"_

_**Only you** , Balin wants to say,  **only you.**  
_

_Instead he says, voice dropping down to a whisper, so even she can only hear his first answer, "No, he did not . . . don't you know Durin only loved once, silly thief."_

 


End file.
